Consider Living A Life
by sandra70
Summary: based on this prompt: Emma accidentally walks in while Killian was showering… her reaction to seeing him naked for the first time. Set between 4A and 4B, in those six quiet weeks.


Even though Gold has gone for good after his heartbroken wife has banished him from Storybrooke, the aftermath of his latest scheme is still omnipresent. Killian is occasionally having trouble falling asleep, his dreams haunted by the anguished faces of the fairies and the horror on Emma's face when she was forced to watch his old foe almost kill him. He will never forget the look in her eyes: Emma Swan, confronted with yet another loss in her life, and it was his fault.

Her torment is very similar: normally not the clingy type, she's always anxious to keep him by her side. The escape from peril has been just too narrow to be nonchalant about it. Killian can claim to be a survivor all he wants – she feels more reassured when she has him within sight. Emma knows that there's no impending danger – at least not at the moment. But still, when they walk along the street hand in hand, she might hold on extra strongly, as if she wants to make sure that nobody can rip him from her side. When they are at the loft for dinner – he's often around lately – and later after she drives him to Granny's, she always waits outside until she sees the lights go on in his room. He doesn't even know that.

They have made it a habit to have breakfast together first thing in the morning, at Granny's. Because he's an early riser, she has started to get up a little earlier in the morning; yet she never manages to beat him. Every day when she enters the diner, he's already there at "their" table, smiling at her, his eyes sparkling like two blue rays of sunshine, a steaming pot of coffee waiting for her. And, without being aware of it, every time she releases a breath of relief when she sees him there, alive.

But then one day, about two weeks after the dramatic events that luckily led to the restoring of Killian's heart and Gold's defeat, when she walks into the diner, her eyes scan the room to find their table empty, and her heart skips a beat. She throws a quick glance at her watch and sees that she's not earlier than usual, maybe even some ten minutes later. Well, no drama. She draws a deep breath and smiles at Ruby while she crosses the room to approach the little booth that's nowadays reserved for them every morning, but it's not more than an absentminded quick curving of her lips.

Ruby approaches the table. "Morning, Emma. The usual?"

Emma blinks nervously. "Uh... yeah." She clears her throat, and Ruby raises a questioning eyebrow. "Killian not here yet?" she asks almost casually.

The brunette shrugs. "Haven't seen him this morning."

"I bet he'll be here any minute," Emma murmurs.

"Sure thing." Ruby smiles and leaves the table to get her coffee.

As the minutes are ticking away, Emma is getting more and more nervous. She's telling herself that it's probably irrational, but in the last two weeks he has never been that late. She shifts in her seat and fidgets with the menu on the table, her eyes darting again and again to the back door leading to the guest rooms, always hoping to see Killian's tall, dark figure enter the room. When Ruby puts her coffee in front of her, she doesn't even notice it. She waits five more endless minutes, until she can't stand it any longer and jumps up from her seat to head for the back door. When Ruby cocks an eyebrow at her in question, she just murmurs that she'll check on him, and Ruby nods understandingly, not even the hint of a wolfish grin this time. After all, the whole town knows what almost happened to the Sheriff's boyfriend, and no one dares to make fun of her for worrying.

Emma rushes to Killian's room and knocks, her heart beating in her throat, but as hard as she's listening, there's no answer. She doesn't waste time with knocking again or picking the lock; a quick flick of her wrist, and the door opens. She enters, closes the door carefully behind her and sees immediately that the room is empty. The bed has obviously been slept in, but Killian is nowhere to be seen. Her eyes fly to the closed door leading to the bathroom where he must, _has to_ be, but she doesn't hear water running. _No sound at all._ Emma feels her palms dampen with nervousness and rubs them against her jeans. Then she takes two big steps towards the door and reaches for the doorknob with determination.

That's the moment when it opens and she finds herself face to face, not more than a foot apart, with Killian. She is so relieved to see him that at first she doesn't notice the obvious, but that moment's gone by in the blink of an eye. His damp hair is tousled, spiking in all directions, and he's wearing his hook and necklace. That is _all_ he's wearing.

She stumbles two steps backwards, and his eyes pop open. "Swan?" he gasps.

Emma tries to fix her eyes on his face, but it's too late: she can't keep them from running down his body – just to make sure that it's not a hallucination, and it most certainly isn't – and up again. "Where have you been?" she blurts out the first words that come to her mind.

Killian is at least as shocked as she is: he's aware that he's undressed, and it's not like she's seen him like that before. Unfortunately, he doesn't even have a towel or anything else he could use to render himself halfway decent. And _bloody hell_ , the thought of his Swan looking at his naked body – and he _knows_ that she has stolen a thorough look – is shooting a bolt of lightning through his veins. "Ah... I... I was taking a..." He points his thumb over his shoulder and stumbles over his own words, stuttering like a bloody fool. He knows how that rain-bath is called, he _knows_ it – it's not like he's come to this world only yesterday – but right now, his blood seems to be everywhere else in his body than in his brain, and for the life of him he can't remember the word.

"Shower," she jumps in quickly, and _fuck_ , her eyes dart down _again_ , and then they both speak simultaneously. Emma motions her hand impatiently in his direction and starts: "Why the hell..."

He scratches behind his ear and says sheepishly: "Can I have my..." He waves towards the chair standing beside the small table. She manages to tear her eyes away from his body with some effort and sees that his black jeans are neatly folded on the seat. She almost jumps there to snatch them and basically throws them at him.

He catches them and disappears into the bathroom again, murmuring something. Emma stares at the closed bathroom door with her mouth hanging open and contemplates for a moment to flee the room, but then she tells herself that would be childish. Instead, she slumps down on his bed and buries her face in her hands, cursing.

Inside the bathroom, Killian leans against the sink and stares at his own reflection in the mirror; it seems as if a ghost is staring back at him, a ghost with pointed ears that have turned slightly pink at the tips. What in blazes has just happened? He rubs his hand over his face and tries to calm down, but it doesn't really work. He has just almost bumped into his Swan, _naked_ , and she looked like she's scared to death. _Wonderful_. He's determined to take it slow, to let her set the pace, because he knows her. Of course he can't wait to finally make her his completely – and he knows she wants it too – but she's worth waiting for, and he'll be damned if he does anything to rush things and scare her off. They have worked so hard to bring her walls finally and gently down, that he surely doesn't want to risk bringing them back up. And then he goes and shocks her like that. He sighs deeply and quickly pulls on his pants, praying that there's not too much damage done.

Emma sits on Killian's bed and groans quietly. Her face is hidden behind her hands, her hair falling down like a protective curtain, and she squeezes her eyes tight shut, as if by doing so, she could erase the memory from her mind. But even though the glimpse she caught was relatively short, the picture is so clearly etched into her brain as if she was still staring at it, at him. _Killian_. Killian, _naked_. Oh God, she wasn't prepared for that. He is exactly the delicious sight for sore eyes she always imagined – _yes_ , she did fantasize about him, and often. But reality exceeds her imagination by far. The lean, but firm outline of his body – broad, well-shaped shoulders, trim waist, flat stomach, long, muscular legs – has basically been no secret to her, even with his clothes on. But the details... oh, the details are what slay her. And it's one thing knowing, feeling his shape through his clothes when she hugs him, and another actually _seeing_ it in all its glory.

His chiseled collarbones and defined pecs, not to mention the flat abdomen, made her fingers instinctively curl at her sides, to prevent herself from touching him. And all that hair... she's familiar with the gloriousness that is his chest hair – and his incredible smell – but so far, she only ever got a glimpse of a part of it. An _abundant_ part, yes; but now she's seen it to its whole extent, and _God_ , it made her palms itch to touch it, to feel it wiry yet soft, tickling her sensitive flesh in a way that she'd feel all the way down to her toes. Absentmindedly, she rubs her left thumb over her right palm. The hair is dusted all over his well-toned upper body up to said collarbones (and also over his forearm), whereas his stomach is relatively smooth, save for the dark line trailing down to...

 _Fuck_ , she can't believe this happened. It's so embarrassing and typical of her shitty timing. She's mortified, and at the same time she feels stupid, because she really shouldn't be. He is... _yes_ , he is her _boyfriend_ , after all; she has no trouble admitting that. Emma knows damn well that normally, they would be at a place in their relationship where they'd be familiar with each other's bodies, knowing each other intimately. But what is even normal with them, with their lives? The quiet moments have been all too rare since their time travel adventure that made her finally admit what Killian Jones means to her. They had to deal with yet another new villain in town and then with Gold gone berserk – all that has barely left them time to breathe, let alone pay proper attention to their budding relationship, cuddle and cherish it and let it blossom.

In short: there's no doubt that they are a couple, but that last, big step – they have yet to take it. It's not like she hasn't been dreaming of it, it's not like she doesn't _want_ it... the moment just hasn't been _right_ so far. Even if there's no crisis at the moment to distract them, the odds just haven't been in their favor: Emma still doesn't have her own place, and it's really not easy to create intimate moments when you're under the constant scrutiny of your parents, your son and, basically, the entire town. Somehow, the occasion that Emma finds herself in Killian's room has never occurred so far; maybe, just _maybe_ she has been avoiding it, she isn't sure. Anyhow, _this_ is a mess. The knowledge that the ball of fire that's burning deep inside her guts – so bright and hot that it would put one of Regina's to shame – has nothing to do with her embarrassment, doesn't really help now.

Emma groans in frustration and rubs her hands over her face, but a second later she almost jumps out of her skin when she hears Killian's voice: "Has anything happened, love?"

He's standing in the middle of the room with his jeans on now – his _tight_ jeans – , but his upper body is still bare, and that half-dressed state is somehow even more alluring than when he was completely naked. For the life of her, she just can't help her eyes scanning him again... she's ridiculously disappointed when she sees his treasure trail disappear in the waistband of his jeans, and an embarrassing blush washes over her cheeks when she hikes her eyes up to his face again.

"What?" she manages and frowns, and her tone mirrors her utter confusion.

"Is everything alright?" he asks, concern in his voice and motions towards her with his hand. "I mean, for you to come here..." He lets his words trail off.

She combs her hair behind her ears with both hands. "Well, you didn't show up, and I..." Nervously, she licks her lips, feeling a little stupid now. She throws her hands in the air. "I don't know, I was worried."

"I overslept because I had trouble falling asleep last night," he admits and scratches behind his ear. "You were worried? About me?" There's a softness, a wonder in his voice that renders him so utterly adorable that her heart tightens in her chest. It's like he can't believe that she'd worry about _him_.

"Irrational, I know," she replies quickly and gets up from the bed. He takes two steps in her direction, but before she can stop herself, she raises her hands instinctively, and immediately he roots to the spot. "I... I just should leave you to your privacy and wait for you..." She doesn't finish her sentence, just motions vaguely towards the door.

Killian nods with a little smile, but she has seen the shadow that briefly flickered over his face, like she's seen it often before, in those days when they were fighting Pan and the Wicked Witch; it was the shadow of rejection. "Of course, love," he answers and tilts his head in a gracious little bow, tucking away his disappointment and granting her her space, like always.

Emma turns around and heads for the door as if to flee; her instinct to get away from this situation she was thrown in so unexpectedly. When her hand reaches for the doorknob, though, out of nowhere she hears her father's voice in her head. _Life's made up of moments._ Suddenly she asks herself what it is she's running away from. It's not like she's having any doubts about them, about her feelings for him... or that she wants him. Because she _does_. She hasn't planned anything like that. But is it even _possible_ to plan this? Is it _necessary_? She freezes in mid-movement, her hand hovering over the doorknob indecisively.

"Swan?" Killian's voice in her back is full of confusion.

She takes a deep breath and turns around to look at him again, a mix of nervousness and determination on her face. He's just standing there, in the middle of the room, his arms dangling at his sides, looking at her questioningly. Absentmindedly, his thumb is fidgeting with his other fingers, and she is momentarily distracted by the sight of that habit of his. Then she hikes her eyes up at his clueless face again and makes a decision.

Emma murmurs, almost more to herself: "Or I could just..." Killian raises his eyebrows in question, and before he even realizes she's started to move, she crosses the distance between them with three long steps, grabs his face with both hands and pulls him down to her, crushing her lips to his fiercely.

He's totally taken aback by this sensual assault he never, ever expected. They have kissed before, of course, and many times – there have been passionate kisses, desperate kisses, romantic kisses, sweet and soft kisses... but now, in this moment, after her immediate reaction to pull back from him? He has no clue how to react. Of course, he responds to the kiss after the first shock, but very tentatively and carefully. He puts his hand to the back of her head to cradle it, like he loves to do, but very lightly, while his hook is resting against her right hip. Her lips move hotly against his, and it's pretty clear that she hasn't intended this to be a particularly innocent kiss. He feels her sweet heavenly tongue brush over his lower lip and beg for access.

He's granting that access, but is still holding back a bit; alas, self control isn't easy being half-naked with Emma Swan pressed up against his body, kissing him like she's never kissed him before – except for Neverland, of course. That kiss was very similar to this one, only then it was clear that it wouldn't lead to anything more, not yet. Killian is afraid if he kisses her back in earnest now, his body might start to react in an unmistakable way – in fact, he notices the first signs already – and he doesn't want to scare her off somehow. Until now, she just hasn't seemed ready for that step. And he has no idea what her intentions are right now.

Emma lets her hands slide from his face down along his neck until they rest against his chest where his skin burns under her touch. When they break apart and look at each other, the air is buzzing with electricity; he looks at her searchingly, but he can't quite decipher the expression on her face. Determined to relieve the thick tension that has settled between them, he goes to make a quip to find his voice a little breathless.

"Why, love, I'm happy you're so glad you found me well and unharmed." He lets his hand sink from her head and rests it against her left hip, even managing a little smirk.

She just smiles back openly, with a hint of sultriness in her amazing green eyes. "I'm happy I came here," she replies in a husky voice. Her body's still pressed up against his, her hands resting against his chest, and she doesn't seem to have the intention to step back.

He shifts a little and tries to distance the midsection of his body a bit from hers, but somehow that doesn't really work, because she slides her hands around his torso and molds her body even closer into his. Killian scratches behind his ear. "Uh, Swan... as much as I'd like to stay here with you close like this..." He pauses and clears his throat while she tilts her head in question. "I'm afraid it will be difficult to keep up my gentlemanly manners for long."

She smiles up at him sweetly, but with a twinkle in her eyes that makes his stomach churn. " _Good."_

He raises an eyebrow. "Emma, I..."

"Someone once said to me," she interrupts, "I should consider living a life even during a crisis, otherwise I might miss it." He averts his eyes for a moment and licks his lips a little nervously when he hears his own words from her mouth, and she continues: "I've missed enough. I want to start living, really _living_ , Killian."

Her hands start to caress his bare back in slow, circular motions, and almost automatically, his fingers curl against her hip. His heart is beating faster by the minute. "What are you saying, Swan?" he asks hoarsely.

She tilts her head a little back, so that she can look him deep in the eyes and make sure he understands every word she's about to say. "I need my own place, and I will get it." She brings her hands to his face again, caressing his scruffy cheeks with her thumbs. "But I don't want to wait that long. I don't want to waste one more minute." He blinks twice, adorable in his obvious disbelief, and her heart flows over with the love she feels for this man. "You won my heart, Killian," she goes on quietly, with disarming simplicity, "and I want you."

He's been used to being rejected, to being held at arm's length for so long that he doesn't dare to believe what he thinks – _hopes_ – she's saying. "Emma... are you sure?" he inquires.

"I thought I was an open book?" Now, she loosens her embrace and, taking a step back, slips out of her leather jacket. It's of a light brown color; she still loves the red, but she doesn't wear it like an armor any more. Killian watches her with incredulous fascination. She drops the garment to the floor and looks at him with a shrug, a very girlish and open gesture, before she adds in a husky voice, barely more than a whisper: _"Read me."_

And he does. She's standing there in her skinny jeans and boots, legs a little spread, gently rocking back and forth on her heels; her hands shoved in her back pockets. With her chin held up, she's looking at him with sparkling eyes, her cheeks flushed, and her lips slightly parted and curved into an inviting smile. The way her chest heaves and falls shows him that she isn't nonchalant about this, but nervously excited. She's a little flustered, but _bloody hell_ , she does look like she's sure about what she wants. When Killian doesn't move at once, she licks her lips, and for a moment she seems almost a little insecure, and he realizes that he's not the only one with self-esteem problems. He's told himself for quite some time that he isn't good enough for her, but she's actually the one who has experienced rejection for most of her life, has learned the bitter lesson that the people who are important to her tend to let her down – and has ended up thinking that perhaps no one really deems _her_ good enough.

And yet, here she is: taking the leap of faith to let him see her vulnerability. Oh, she has been opening up with him before, has allowed him to see her soft side and all – but this, her laying her heart on the line like that, is a whole new dimension, and his heart flows over with the love he feels for this woman. Now seeing herswallow nervously, he'll be damned if he lets her stew for one moment longer.

One step is enough, and he can catch her around her waist and pull her close. She follows eagerly, her hands coming out of her pockets immediately and wrapping around his neck. They move in for the kiss simultaneously, and it's different from any kiss they've ever shared. They haven't been shy with each other, but this kiss... this kiss is everything poured into one. It's passion and tenderness, sweetness and raw emotion, soulful and insanely arousing. His hand wanders into her hair again, firmly cupping the back of her head, and his hook is pressing into her lower back, pulling her even more into him. Emma stands on her tiptoes and almost wraps herself around him, and he doesn't bother trying to hide the physical effect she has on him. She's told him that she wants him, and _by God_ , he wants _her_ , and he lets her feel it. She has to feel his arousal against her stomach, and when she does, she sighs deep in her throat and rolls her hips against his in eager response.

He breaks the kiss, and they are both breathing heavily, panting almost. His hand glides to the side of her throat, fingers combing through her silky locks, and his thumb strokes the dimple in her chin. Their locked stares are burning with passion and so much more.

"I swear I shall read every chapter," he vows, "every line and every word."

"Maybe even write a new one?" Her voice is teasing, but there's also a hint of seriousness in it that touches something deep inside him.

"As many as you wish, my love," he replies and releases her for a moment from his embrace, taking half a step back from her.

Emma frowns, but when she sees him grasping his hook with his hand she knows what he's about to do and quickly puts her own hand over his to stop him. His eyes fly to hers, and she just shakes her head with a smile. She knows from their long conversations during these last two weeks that this has been the origin of the whole mess he's gotten himself into: his feeling of incompleteness, his wish to be a whole man for her, because he thought she deserved a better version of himself. They talked about all this, and she's told him again and again that she doesn't need him to change for her, not physically and not in any other way, because to her, he's perfect in his little imperfections, just the way he is. Whenever she's pictured this moment – and yes, she's not ashamed to admit that she _has_ pictured it – it has never occurred to her that he'd take off the hook before making love to her. Except for that one evening, she has always only seen him with his hook, and for her, it's a regular part of him, just like his hand. She knows there will come the time when she'll ask him to remove it, because just like she wants to show him all of her scars, she wants him to trust her enough to show her his. But today, now, it's important for her to let him know that his metal attachment doesn't bother her at all, that it has its place in their bed as a part of him and not just as some sort of kink.

Killian understands her gesture and her look; she doesn't have to say anything. He averts his eyes for a moment and can't resist the urge to scratch behind his ear; this woman keeps making him feel whole and humble at the same time, and he still doesn't understand how he got so lucky. The words _I love you_ are on his lips, but he holds them back – he's sure that she knows it already, and there's no need to make her nervous by uttering it aloud and maybe making her feel pressured to say what she's not yet ready to put in words.

So, he just returns her smile and nods, letting go of his hook and putting it and his hand to her hips instead, tentatively slipping the pointed end and his fingers under the hem of her creamy white sweater. Not taking her eyes off his, she slowly raises her arms, giving him the permission to undress her. Inch by inch he raises her shirt, and it seems like there are sparks flying between them, the air buzzing with electricity once more.

His mouth falls open when he sees her upper body bare save for a tiny piece of lace that must be this realm's version of a bodice. It's white – innocent, yet so sinful – and everything about it knocks the breath out of his lungs. Its delicacy and the way it hugs her mounds are heavenly, and the broken lace allows him a glimpse of her taut peaks straining against the material.

"Bloody hell," he murmurs and raises his hand slowly, a dreamy expression on his face. Emma's eyes wander to his hand, and she watches with fascination, lips slightly parted, how he lays his fingertips on her left collarbone so very carefully, as if he's afraid she might vanish under his touch. When she doesn't, he gets visibly more confident and spreads his entire palm on the left side of her chest, the cool silver of his rings contrasting with the electrifying warmth of his skin against hers. The heel of his hand rests against the swell of her breast, and she's sure that he must feel her heart beat faster and faster by the minute. And then, slowly, he starts to slide it down and comes to a halt only when his large palm is covering her left breast; they fit together perfectly, and seeing his hand there on her breast makes a dense ball of heat coil deep in Emma's belly.

He doesn't squeeze or anything else, but the slight press of his palm against her sensitive flesh is enough to make her nipple harden even more. She hikes her eyes up to his face and sees that the wonder and awe in his eyes have been joined by something else – a darker shade of blue, a spark of passion, a roguish glint. The corners of his beautiful mouth twitch up a little in a mix of boyish glee and devilish desire as she feels his hand glide a little to the left and cup the side of her breast now. Then he strokes his thumb slowly over her nipple in a circular motion – once, and she inhales deeply; twice, and she closes her eyes. When he does it for the third time, her head falls back, and she lets that breath out in a long drawn-out sigh. Her hands blindly reach out for him, and when she finds his hips, she holds on to him and steadies herself, for her knees start to feel a little shaky.

His hooked arm curls around her waist again to pull her closer, and then she feels his hot mouth against the right side of her throat, kissing and nibbling along the curve of her neck down to her collarbone. The softness of his lips and tongue and the roughness of his scruff form a contrast that's driving her insane, and she slides her hands around his waist and huddles closer into his body, needing to feel his skin on hers.

Her head gets dizzy, and she realizes that he's started to walk her slowly backwards, in the direction of his bed. When the back of her legs thump softly against the mattress, he puts his hand to her shoulder and guides her carefully to sit down. He kneels down in front of her and places his hook around the heel of her boot, grinning up at her with a wink. "May I, Milady?"

Despite her hot and bothered state, Emma leans back on her elbows and actually _giggles_. "Go ahead," she prompts, and he rids her of both boots. Then he slides between her legs, still on his knees on the floor, and she sits bold upright again when she feels his fingers at the waistband of her jeans, playing over the button. His eyes are burning with desire.

"May I, Milady?" he repeats in a hoarse, low voice, and _God_ , that voice alone makes her shiver.

She swallows, but the only answer she's capable of is to lift her hips slightly, invitingly from the mattress. Killian pops her button open with a deft move and then tugs her zipper down, while he keeps looking at her with that barely perceptible smile, dark and dangerous, like a predator almost. But she sees and knows the gentleness beyond that ladykiller smirk and feels completely safe with him. It takes only moments, and her jeans are gone, piled up on the floor. For an entire minute, he remains there on the floor, kneeling between her parted legs, looking her up and down, but there's no lewdness in his eyes or lust; this is pure adoration and wonder. Surprising her, he suddently lunges forward and wraps his arms tightly around her waist. Like a child, he nestles his head against her torso, almost as if he's seeking protection.

The gesture is unspeakably endearing, and Emma feels hot, stupid tears prick the corners of her eyes. She bends down to kiss the crown of his head, threading her fingers through his soft, dark hair. "Killian," she murmurs tenderly and puts her hands to both sides of his head, lifting his face up to her gently.

When he looks up at her, she isn't surprised to see his blue eyes glitter suspiciously; she has always known that he'd be as overwhelmed by this moment as she is. _Some pirate._ He seems to be at a complete loss for words, and that's something to say about Killian Jones. "Emma, my... my love," he almost stutters, and she slides back on the mattress, away from the edge, and reaches out with both arms, motioning for him to get up from his kneeling position.

"Please, come here," she replies, "and lay with me."

Slowly he raises to his feet, his eyes drinking in the picture before him. Emma Swan in all her glory, naked save for the tiny bodice and even tinier knickers, languidly outstretched on his bed, and she's bloody spectacular. Absentmindedly, he rubs his thumb over the tips of his fingers in a slow, circular motion, a haze of desire and wonder clouding his brain, while his gaze sweeps over her like a caress. Her stomach is flat and firm, and her thighs are long and slender, and all he can think of is that they will soon be wrapped around his waist.

Her hypnotizing green eyes are looking at him longingly – _lovingly_ – and her skin is slightly flushed, betraying her arousal; not that she's bothered to hide it before. The expression on her beautiful face is a mix of nervous, eager anticipation and sheer heat, and that attitude she exudes is what makes his head spin and sparks an all-consuming fire deep in his belly.

Killian still can't believe that this is actually happening now – ten minutes ago he was standing under the spray of hot water, trying to wash the remnants of his nightmare away, and now there's his One True Love in his bed, and she has just asked him to make love to her. For a moment he contemplates if he's still dreaming, but after a slight head shake he realizes: it's reality. Her creamy arms reach for him, palms turned to him, and she even wiggles her fingers, beckoning him to her.

He might even have stumbled sightly before he manages to lean forward and put his right knee on the mattress. But before he can lower himself down beside her, Emma holds up one hand and stops him with a sweet little smile. "Not like this," she tells him softly, and when he frowns in confusion, she sits up again and puts both hands to the waistband of his jeans. "Fair's fair," she murmurs in a husky voice, an adorable blush tinting her skin as her fingers work over the button fly, a little clumsily perhaps, popping it open button by button. He stares down at her inclined head, his mouth open in wondrous disbelief, and when she's done, she looks up at him, her eyes veiled with desire. "May I?"

He nods and swallows, his mouth too dry to utter a word right now, and Emma starts to tug firmly at his pants.

She doesn't take her eyes off of his face, just like he did before when he undressed her, and watches with fascination how his eyes narrow for the fraction of a second in the exact moment his erection is released from its narrow confines, the little hairs at the back of her neck bristle at the sound. But she doesn't lower her eyes – _yet_ – as much as she might want to. But the thunderstorm in his devastatingly blue eyes is more arousing than anything she could think of: he looks at her like he wants to ravish her in the dirtiest way and worship her at the same time, and it's absolutely mesmerizing.

When his jeans are halfway down his thighs he moves to help her and shakes them off, breaking theireye contact momentarily. That's the moment when her eyes are unstoppably drawn down his body like a moth to a flame, landing on his erection that is straining towards her. Emma can't help it, she has to touch him. She reaches out slowly, thoughtfully, but then instead of taking him in her hand as she intended to do, she turns her palm away and brushes the back of her hand and her knuckles slowly over his length. His skin is warm and as delicate and smooth as silk, remarkably contrasting with the steely hardness underneath, the touch sending a shiver of goosebumps from her wrist along her arm up to her shoulder. When she raises her hand to repeat the move, his flesh twitches, and he pulls back a little.

"Swan," Killian warns in a breathless voice, and she hikes her eyes up to his face; he looks totally wrecked already when he adds in a strained voice: "I can't..."

Emma blinks twice and lets out a breath she doesn't know she's held. "Me neither," she replies and reaches behind her own back to unclasp her bra.

His eyes are almost popping out when she lets the lacy undergarment slide down her arms and drops it to the floor, and he'll be damned if she isn't the most beautiful and alluring creature he's ever seen. Without further hesitation, he climbs in bed beside her and, leaning on his left elbow, pulls her right into a tight embrace in one single, swift move. His hand wanders from the small of her back up her spine until his fingers entangle in her hair, and their lips meet in a passionate kiss. When his right thigh slides between her legs, Emma digs her heel into his calf and shifts even closer, searching for the delicious friction of his muscular leg against her core. Killian feels her need and is thrilled by the uninhibited way she shows it. He presses his thigh a little firmer to her center, and she moans into his mouth – a sound that fuels his fire and desire. Even more so does the incredible sensation of her heat against his skin he can feel through the thin barrier her lace knickers provide.

Emma's ability to form a clear thought has vanished into thin air, just like her self-control: her whole body is vibrating with tension. The kiss is passionate, but at the same time very slow and thorough, and her head is spinning. She moans in complaint when Killian breaks the kiss, but his mouth just changes location and slides down her throat while his hand wanders slowly down her spine again, rounds her hip and sneaks up her front. She thinks she is in heaven as his lips close around one of her nipples and his fingertips dance around the other one. Her back arches into his touch and she rolls her hips, trying to rub herself against his thigh again, but his leg is out of reach because he's moved further down on the bed. His mouth leaves a fiery trail across her stomach as he plants the softest of kisses there, all the way down. Carefully he inserts his hook and his fingers in the elastic of her knickers and pulls them slowly down.

When they are gone, he settles between her thighs and marvels at the sight before him – Emma Swan, head thrown back and eyes closed; she's uninhibited, unashamed, completely stripped and bare before him. And what amazes him most is not the nudity of her body; it's her absolute openness and abandon, that utter display of trust she regales him with. When he stills for a moment and doesn't touch her she opens her eyes and looks at him questioningly from underneath her long eyelashes, and he smiles before diving down to laya soft kiss below her bellybutton. She smiles back, and both know they just exchanged love declarations without actually saying the words. Then she threads her fingers gently through his hair and closes her eyes again while he moves further down.

Emma lets her head fall back on the pillow – it smells of him – and surrenders herself completely to his heavenly mouth. At the first contact of her most sensitive spot with his tongue her hips jerk a little upwards in shock, because her nub is already swollen and overly sensitized, but his hand on her thigh holds her gently in place, and immediately his lips close soothingly, almost protectively around her bundle of nerves. He stills to wait until she's adapted to the overwhelming sensation, and when she releases the grip on his hair a little, he starts to move and apply a little more pressure. She has found out quite some time ago that Killian is an excellent kisser, and well – he's proving it once more.

The contrast of his rough stubble against her inner thighs and his soft mouth on her core is intoxicating. She's let men do this kind of thing to her before, but at some point she's always felt the urge to close up, pull away, clamp her thighs shut. Because being in this position, she normally feels so vulnerable, completely and utterly at the other one's mercy, that she's just never been able to handle it. But with Killian, it's different; that need to guard herself – with him, she doesn't feel it anymore. With him, she feels protected and knows she's entirely secure: her heart, her body and her soul – he's got her safe in his hand. So, she feels free, so wonderfully free from all inhibitions and restraints – free to lose herself in his touch, to enjoy the pleasure he is giving her with every tug of his lips and every flick of his tongue. Damn, she even feels his teeth graze ever-so-slightly across her flesh, but she doesn't feel uncomfortable at all; the only instinct she has is to melt into the mattress. His mouth is sinful and devilish and heavenly, and _God_ , he surely knows what he's doing, whether it's waltzing, planning a date or kissing her into oblivion, no matter at which part of her body.

She rocks her hips gently into him, falling into the lazy rhythm he's set, and she's aware that she's making incoherent noises, but she doesn't care; he hums in response. Delicious heat spreads from her center through her entire body and envelops her in a cocoon of pleasure and bliss, and she's feeling like she could just _dissolve_. Her whole body seems to vibrate, but suddenly she wants – _needs_ – more; Killian is relentless in his ministrations, she knows he will do everything to give her the utmost pleasure and make sure she feels loved and worshipped – and she _does,_ God help her, she does. But she doesn't want this to be just about herself, because it isn't; it's about _them_ , it's _their_ quiet moment, their _first time_ , and she doesn't want to fall over the edge alone, not the first time.

Emma tugs gently at his hair, but he doesn't react at first. She tugs a little more firmly and utters in a breathless voice: "Killian... please..."

Finally he raises his head, his eyes dark and veiled, and he mistakes her plea. "I know, my treasure," he replies hoarsely and nudges her thigh with his scruffy cheek, "just let go, let go for me."

She presses her lips together and shakes her head. "Not alone," she manages and lets go of his hair, reaching for his shoulders with both hands, " _together_. I want to feel you inside of me."

For a moment, he just stares at her, amazed; then the fine lines around his blue eyes crinkle, and she knows he's smiling that special smile that's reserved only for her. He tilts his head in a tiny nod and replies: "As you wish.", and she melts a little more inside. He swallows before he adds: " _Together_." It's obvious how much her plea has touched him.

He lifts himself on his elbows and knees and moves along her body until his face is hovering over hers. There's still that expression of disbelief in his eyes when he looks down at her. She smiles and wraps her left arm around his torso while her right hand reaches down between them, feeling for his length to guide him inside her where she longs to feel him, finally, after all this time. "Now, please," she breathes and raises her hips a little.

He averts his eyes for a second. "I'm afraid I won't last very long," he murmurs, "I'm just too..."

"So am I," she whispers, her heart beating frantically when her fingers find him and close around his throbbing flesh. His eyes fly to hers again, and she adds: "We'll do it again. _Many times._ " Her smile stretches, and she feels her eyes prickle again, but she doesn't care, and it comes absolutely naturally when she adds: "I love you."

For a few seconds, Killian stops breathing and just looks at her, then – because he cannot speak at first – he captures her mouth in a passionate kiss. She can taste herself on his lips, but she doesn't mind; actually, she finds it highly erotic. "I love you too," he finally replies and gently arches his hips forward, entering her slowly. Her eyes flutter shut, and she wraps her long legs around his waist, just like he has imagined before.

Killian takes his time, and he watches her during every second. Not because he's afraid to see her walls go up again, but because he doesn't want to miss one second of Emma Swan letting herself fall apart. Emma Swan who loves him – and has finally told him so. When she stopped him from bringing her to the brink of pleasure, he thought for a moment it was her old, scared self again, being afraid to lose control, but no – that was Emma Swan who cannot bear to reach her peak without him, because she needs him to share this precious moment. Together. He is taking his time because he wants to draw this moment out forever – this moment when she finally gives herself to him, like he has dreamed so many, many times since he's first laid eyes on her.

He can't look into her eyes now because they're closed, but what he sees and feels tells him everything he needs to know. The way her head's thrown back in complete abandonment, exposing her throat to him, the way her skin is flushed and glitters with tiny beads of perspiration. The way her lips are slightly parted, curved into an enraptured smile while she arches her back. Her legs are wrapped around him, pulling him closer into her tight, welcoming warmth, and her fingertips dig into his back. He sees the spot where her jugular vein beats a mad pulse, and her voice is sweeter than a siren's chant when she starts to make those noises again, sometimes mumbling incoherent words, sometimes clearly uttering his name and a plea.

Once he's all the way in, he stills for a heartbeat, savoring the moment, giving them both time to adapt to each other, to get familiar with the feeling – to become one. He could stay like this for eternity, but his woman has other plans. She opens her eyes again and looks at him with eyes as dark green as the deepest jungle of Neverland and smiles. "Go ahead," she whispers, "take us home."

To make her point, she clenches her inner walls a little, squeezing him just enough to spur him on, and almost automatically, he starts to move; slowly at first, when he pulls out almost completely again and slides back in, but then already a little faster and firmer the third time and the next, until pushes become thrusts. When he sees her pupils dilate, he knows that he's hit the right spot, and now the dam finally breaks. They both fall into a steady rhythm, their bodies in sync like they are made for each other, and he believes they are. With all the tension built up before, it takes them no time to reach the edge of the cliff, and when they both fall and spiral down, they hold on to each other, their foreheads pressed together until the trembling of their bodies subsides.

Their stares lock, and for a moment Emma recognizes the familiar look of insecurity in his eyes, and her heart aches a little. She smiles and captures his lips in a soft, reassuring kiss before she releases his body from the grip of her thighs. He can't help the big, happy grin flashing on his face and finally rolls off her gently, pulling her with him. She feels an absurd little pang of loss when he slips out of her and snuggles into his side, wrapping her arm around him. There is no awkwardness at all, and for a few moments they just revel in the closeness of their new found intimacy.

lt's Killian who finally breaks the comfortable silence, and of course he does it with a quip: some things never change, and that's glorious. "I should go missing more often," he teases.

She slaps his stomach. "Not funny!" she growls.

He chuckles and presses a kiss to her temple. "I'm just joking, love," he soothes. "I have a feeling I will sleep much better from now on, so no more being late."

Emma's fingers are painting patterns into his damp chest hair. "And _I_ have a feeling," she retorts casually, "that you'll get much less _sleep_ in the near future."

She smiles against his skin when she feels a snorted laugh rumble deep in his chest and hears his drawn-out response: " _Excuse_ me?!"

She props herself up on one elbow and leans her left forearm on his chest, resting her chin on it. He's looking at her with infinite happiness glittering in his eyes, a feeling that mirrors on her own face. "What?" she asks teasingly. "Afraid you can't handle it?" she mimicks his wicked way of popping the 't' and throws him a challenging glance – playful, carefree, wonderful.

Of course, he's the one to love a challenge, she knows that. He scrutinizes her for a moment, the ever-present devil lurking in the corners of his eyes winks at her, before he purrs: "No, not only can I handle it, but I can even..." he pauses for a moment to slowly run his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip, "... _master_ it." And, with a quick move, he flips them around, and Emma finds herself on her back again, pinned to the mattress by his weight. It feels good, she feels anchored.

Living a life, enjoying the quiet moments... it might not be so bad, after all.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_

based on a prompt by _**emeraldromance**_. Thank you to my muse **_Silvia_ ** for her constant support and the awesome **_startswithhope_ ** for betaing this story and helping me with the adventure of writing in present tense.


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